Wait for Death No More
by NightFayestorm
Summary: Boone, on the verge of self-destructing, pairs up with the quirky Courier, only to rediscover himself on the way to discovering her.  F!Courier/Boone
1. The First Five Times

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

**A/N:** For those of you who read _The Last Letter_, this is the fleshing out of that one-shot with both the events and story leading up to that point in time and the aftermath.

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><p>First time he sees her, she's a glint of glass with a cowboy hat out on a sandy hill in the Mojave, scanning the night horizon. Once in a while, she stops and focuses on him and he quickly aims, unnecessarily as she then proceeds to wave at him. He carefully lowers his rifle and clenches his jaw. <em>Damn idiot is going to get herself killed, pointing at a sniper like that.<em>

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><p>Second time he sees her, she barrels into his chest as he's heading up for his night watch in Dinky. Manny stares after her with an odd look of desire but she just looks bored.<p>

"You the night sniper?" she asks rhetorically before quickly continuing, "I hope you're smarter than your friend here," she jerks a thumb back to the daytime sniper.

"He's not…" Boone begins, but she's gone before he can finish.

Manny shrugs at him while avoiding his gaze. "Wanted some information, tried to get her to work for it but turns out she's smarter than me."

Boone only gives a minor grunt in response before brushing past him to take up his post, setting his Sunset Sarsaparilla down next to a particular chipped tooth in the giant mouth. Manny sighs and takes his leave, giving a weak goodbye before the door shuts.

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><p>Third time he sees her, Ranger Andy is demonstrating a take-down move to her in the courtyard, using an unwitting Novac resident as a dummy. He watches as she fluidly imitates him, throwing the poor man to the ground with ease. He grunts before shouldering his rifle and marching back to his room for whisky and sleep.<p>

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><p>Fourth time he sees her, she silently appears next to him in Dinky's mouth round about 02:30. He swears at her in surprise and she just gives him a mild smile in response.<p>

"Heard some people mention around town that your wife is missing."

"That's none of your business."

"I just thought I would offer to help, I'm great at finding things. Also great at losing things, but that tends to happen when you're shot in the head," she quirks a smile at him, unfazed by his steady beady eyes shaded by the dark lenses. "I'm a courier. Some asshole shot me for my last delivery. Trying to track him and it down. That's how I met Manny; he said he knew the guy. Or met him, anyway. He was stupid enough to keep a diary on his computer, as if his door is hard to unlock, psh." She rolls her eyes before returning to his steady gaze.

He mulls it over for a minute. Here is a woman who is new in town and will be leaving shortly. She would be a perfect candidate to help him find his wife's betrayer. She even offered to help him. He doesn't have much money, but she looks like she'll take anything.

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><p>Fifth time he sees her, she's got his beret comfortably settled atop her auburn hair, standing a safe distance from the bitch who sold his wife. After he takes the shot, she doesn't even spare a parting glance at beheaded corpse on the desert floor as she troops back up to Dinky and asks him to follow her.<p>

He doesn't know _why_ he's following her, this little shit-kicker, just that he felt compelled to do so. _Who the fuck is she, anyway? _ He watches her swing her rifle around up to her back. It's a piece-of-shit hunting rifle that's been modded with a scope. Probably can't shoot any straighter than a drunk guy pees. _At least she knows how to clean it_. Gave him only one name, _MacKenzie_, and he's not even sure if it's her first or last. Maybe it doesn't matter. He won't be around long enough to get to know her anyway. Safer that way.


	2. Revenge

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

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><p>They stand at the road crossing over Highway 95 leading into Novac. "Vegas is that way," Boone inclines his head north along the highway.<p>

"I know," she mutters, staring intently to the east. "What's down the road?"

"Legion," Boone growls.

"What, this side of the river?"

"They took the Nelson outpost from the NCR."

"Huh," she says, as though it expresses her full thoughts on the matter, before taking a few determined steps eastward.

"What are you doing?"

She turns back to face him, still standing stock still where she left him. "Going to kill some Legion. I thought that's what you wanted."

Boone narrows his eyes at her behind his sunglasses before rolling his shoulders and following after her.

They reach viewing distance of the town quickly at the brisk walk MacKenzie keeps but are stopped by Ranger Milo, who requests their assistance in taking care of the three NCR soldiers crucified in the town. MacKenzie readily accepts and Boone dutifully follows her to the hill overlooking the small settlement.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to kill those men," she throws over her shoulder at her stoic companion. "If Milo doesn't like me risking my own life to save them, he can fuck himself."

"It's the right thing to do."

She glances at him now. "I'm glad you agree. Let's go kill us some Legion bastards."

They trudge up the hill, where Milo meets them, to discuss strategy.

"I don't know how many there are, but they are led by a man known as Dead Sea; he usually hides out in the cabin there at the back. I recommend taking as many of them down from up here first."

"That's what I'm good at," Boone replies.

"I figured as much, being First Recon and all."

Boone merely grunts as he and MacKenzie raise their rifles and take aim. MacKenzie's stance while shooting makes Boone cringe, no less so than her trouble aiming. After several shots she's managed to take down one Legionnaire and nick another in the shoulder, merely slowing him down.

She growls in frustration and throws down her rifle, slipping her spiked knuckles out of her pocket and tearing down the hill with a bloody scream. The first Legionnaire she comes across gets a face full of brass, followed by several more hits that leave him a bloody mess on the ground. She whips around to find another one rushing up to her wielding a machete, narrowly dodging it to take advantage of his over-ambitious swing to his demise.

"Christ, she's insane!" Milo near shouts.

"Watch my six," Boone says before swiftly descending the hill towards MacKenzie. _Woman_ _is going to get __herself killed blinding charging into battle like that._ By the time he's reached her, she's taken down one more Legionnaire and one of their mongrels, panting heavily, eyes darting around for the next kill.

She spots Boone and yells, "Cover me!" before darting off towards the crucified NCR soldiers. She pauses beside them. "Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here. Just hang on."

Boone runs after her as she jumps into the cabin that holds Dead Sea, trying to ignore the groaning coming from the dying men on the crosses. Inside he finds her avoiding the precise swings of Dead Sea and his machete, Liberator. She can't get close enough to get a good hit in, instead settling for a few weak strikes to his back and sides.

As they continue their deadly dance around the room, Boone lines up the shot, tracking the Legionnaire back and forth, waiting for the opportune moment. Finally, MacKenzie gets clear long enough for a bullet to strike home, exploding Dead Sea's head. His body falls to the floor with a sick thud.

She drops to her knees, gasping for breath. "Thanks. That was close."

"That was stupid of you, coming in here alone."

"I wasn't alone, you followed me," she responds with a weak, cheeky smile.

He sighs heavily. "Don't do it again. Next time I might not be there."

Her smile fades as she slowly stands. "Fine," she replies curtly. "Let's get those men down."

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><p>They make camp for the night in Nelson, watching the NCR move back in.<p>

"Sorry, by the way," MacKenzie says quietly to her fireside companion.

"For what?" Boone asks.

"For dashing off like that. I just got so heated, I didn't think."

"Hmpf. Bloodlust."

"Revenge."

"So just why do you hate the Legion so much?"

"I need a _reason_ to want them dead?"

"You said you taking revenge."

She sighs as she rubs a hand across her forehead. "My sister. Legion got her."

"How?"

"Same old story. She was a caravaneer, their group got ambushed."

"What's her name?"

Another long pause. "Joanna. Called her Jo for short. I tracked her down, but I couldn't get to her. Not in time. She…got a knife off one of them. She always had quick fingers. Ended it herself."

Boone swallows hard. "Thought you said you didn't remember anything from before you got shot." He's nothing if not direct.

"I wrote it down, so I'd never forget. I couldn't _let_ myself forget _one detail_, lest I forget a reason to keep fighting."

Boone drops his head in silent agreement. He doesn't let himself forget either. Except he's waiting for death, whereas this woman…doesn't seem to be.


	3. Frustration

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

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><p>"If you're gonna bother carrying a gun, you should at least know how to shoot."<p>

"What?" MacKenzie turns towards her companion as they sit around Nelson the morning after the takeover.

"It's no wonder you can shoot straight with the way you stand and hold your rifle."

"Hey, I hit one yesterday."

"With as many shots as you fired, you should have hit them all."

"Nobody can be as perfect as you, First Recon." She's a bit testy today after being chewed out by Boone after the fight yesterday.

"Hey, you're lucky to have a First Recon guy following you around. How did you manage that anyway?" a soldier calls out from nearby.

MacKenzie spares him a mere passing glance before responding, "By not sitting on my ass waiting for my friends to die on a cross."

His face crumples into a scowl as he stalks away from the twosome. "Bitch," echoes back towards the redhead and her sniper.

"Don't let them get to you. NCR has gotten scared out of taking risks lately. Costs a lot of good lives," Boone says in an attempt to placate MacKenzie's obviously foul mood.

"Is that why you left?"

Boone holds back a growl before tersely replying, "I don't want to talk about it."

She holds his gaze a bit longer before giving a small shrug. "Fair enough." A silence stretches out between them as MacKenzie kicks stray rocks around with her boot. "You know," she startles Boone by starting again, "we should probably get you better armor if you're going to keep charging into the heat of battle after me." She looks pointedly at his dirty t-shirt.

He grunts. "Never needed armor sitting in the mouth of a dinosaur. Haven't worn it since I was still in the army."

"Well, first trader we come by, we see what we can rustle up. I can't lose my only backup."

"You shouldn't rely on me to keep you safe. You need to learn how to shoot better so you don't _have_ to charge into the heat of battle."

"Yeah, what, you gonna teach me?"

Boone narrows his eyes at her briefly before standing and grabbing his rifle, heading towards the fence where the dead Legionnaires' helmets have been lined up. He turns to find MacKenzie still sitting, staring at him in confusion. "You coming or what?"

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><p>"If you must be standing to take the shot, keep your hips squared up like this." Boone firmly grasps her hips covered by leather armor and forces her into the correct position. She gives a huff of annoyance. "Keep your shoulder back, like that. No, keep your gun up, you need to learn the form."<p>

"Just let me shoot already!"

"No," he growls in her ear as he steps in behind her, positioning her shoulders and holding placing his hands over hers on the gun. "Keep it steady and exhale as you line up the shot," he says quietly. From her place tightly fit into the circle of his arms he feels a shiver go down her spine. He suddenly realizes how he's holding her and steps back with a cough, causing her to waver in his absence.

"Try taking the shot now," he orders.

She does, but misses the helmet.

"Focus!" he yells.

She shoots again, and again, and again, each time missing the helmet. Boone's disappointment only grows as he barks orders at her, hesitant to get closer again.

"Fuck this!" MacKenzie growls in frustration, stalking away to peel off her leather jacket and throw it to the ground, leaving her in a pale blue tank top. She turns back to the fence and punches a helmet off, severely denting it with her spiked knuckles.

"You shouldn't let your emotions gets the best of you," Boone reprimands.

Seething, MacKenzie drops the brass in the dust, causing a small plume to rise. "What, you never lose your cool, First Recon?" she prowls towards him in a large arc.

He sets down his rifle and slowly tracks her with his eyes behind those dark glasses of his.

"You can't tell me that in all of your years in the military that you never fucked up once and got a little _hot headed_. Tell me, what happened?"

He grits his teeth, resisting the bait. "That's in the past."

"Ah, so Mister First Recon _isn't_ perfect, after all?" she taunts, circling him.

"Nobody is perfect."

"How did it _feel?_ Did it make you feel more _powerful?_"

He growls again as she passes near, making a grab for her but she sidesteps him.

"What are you afraid of, First Recon?" she says quietly in his ear as she darts past, slipping his beret off his head.

Boone snaps and lunges towards her, but she's too agile. A turn of events and she's pinned him to the ground, straddling his waist, his arms pinned next to his head. They pant heavily. "Shouldn't let your emotions get the best of you," she repeats back at him, lips awfully close to his.

Something primal stirs within. Carla never behaved this way with him. She was always a _lady_. This aggression stokes his masculinity, makes him want to fight back, fight to take what should be _his_. Makes him fight to _dominate._ It makes his loins begin to stir, and that's the last thing he wants right now. He quickly throws her off him, her ass landing in the dust. "Don't do that again," he mumbles as he scoops up his rifle and stalks off.


	4. The Lake

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers, alerters, and lurkers! You guys are the best!**  
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><p>They left Boulder City not long ago. MacKenzie idly twirls Benny's lighter around in her hand. <em>Nice lighter<em>, she thinks, observing the finely engraved silver. Slim lines meant it fits perfectly in her pocket, just under her breast. _A good luck charm_, she called it to Boone. He scoffed. How something that belonged to the man that tried to kill her could be a good luck charm, he would never figure out.

Nevertheless she's entranced by it and it seems to make her happy, so he gives her peace.

"Let's go see the lake," the redhead suddenly states, breaking the sniper out of his trance.

"What?" her stoic companion replies.

"The lake, it's that way," MacKenzie vaguely gestures east. "I want to see it."

"It's just a big blog of water."

"Well I don't _remember _seeing a big blob of water, so I want to _see_ it now."

"This isn't getting us to that Benny character you're chasing any faster."

"They said he's one of the Chairmen of a casino, I doubt he's going anywhere fast. He thinks I'm _dead_, remember? He doesn't exactly have a reason to run."

"You're trusting the word of a Great Khan?"

She shrugs at that.

"What are you going to do when you find him?" Boone questions after a time.

"I don't know; kill him, I suppose. That's what I'm going for—revenge—right?"

Boone shrugs at her. "Sure, let's go find the lake."

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><p>Boone watches as she carefully picks her way around rocks as they head eastward. He's almost too focused on the seductive sway of her hips to notice when she holds her breath and crouches before him, just about toppling over her as he continues walking. He recognizes the well-known buzz. Cazadores.<p>

"Still want to see the lake?" he asks now that a new danger has presented itself.

"How hard can they be? They're just bugs," she says nonchalantly, edging up the bluff to sight the nest. "You're not afraid of a few little bugs, are you First Recon?" she needles him with a crooked smile.

"Just bugs," he grumbles under his breath as he watches her line up her rifle for a shot. She's been practicing under his tutelage, and her aim has improved. She nicks the wing of one cazadore on her first shot, sending it to the ground, crippled. A second shot blows the body apart into a fine green mist.

Boone grunts as he lines up his own rifle, swiftly taking out two more of the pack before they start swarming their way. Seeing the approaching hoard, MacKenzie sets down her rifle and retrieves her combat knife from the back of her belt. She cleanly slices two to death before being surrounded by a few more.

"Shit. Fucking... Son of a fucking bitch!" MacKenzie shouts as she dances around the the flying colorful beasts. "Little shit-fucking fucker stung me!"

Boone looks over at her in alarm as she stumbles to the ground, her legs gone numb. She continues to strike out with her knife, taking down another cazadore circling her rapidly failing body.

"I can't feel my legs!"

"Hang on!"

"Boone, my arm is going numb!"

He swallows. She only calls him _Boone_ if she's really in trouble. "Just one more!" he yells back to her as he slices the wings off the cazadore with his machete. It falls to the ground and limps around on its stubby legs before he promptly stomps on it with his boot.

He drops to his knees beside her as she lazily looks up at the sky, jaw going slack, gun held listlessly in one limp hand.

"Where's your antidote?"

Her eyes glassily roll over towards his as she mumbles out the words "Front pocket, pack."

He quickly digs through and pulls out the syringe, uncapping it and stabbing it into her chest.

She spasms with a loud inhale before rolling over onto her side, curling protectively in on herself. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck," she lets out slowly.

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit. Thanks for stabbing me in the chest so hard, you ass."

"Quickest way into your system."

"I'll be sure to return the favor some day."

"You still want to go to the lake?" Boone asks with that _I-told-you-so_ voice.

"Yes. I was just stung by a fucker and then _stabbed in the chest_ by another fucker, neither of which are particularly pleasant, let me tell you; so, _yes_, I _still_ want to go the thrice-damned lake! Just help me up, First Recon."

He gives a small, hidden smile at that. She must be feeling better if she's returned to calling him _First Recon._

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><p>MacKenzie gives a soft sigh as she drops her pack on the shore of the lake. Across the way is Camp Golf, something Boone recognizes from his NCR days. The pair can vaguely make out soldiers milling around the multitude of tents, going about their daily training exercises.<p>

She steps close to the water, passing her PipBoy close to the surface. "Hey, look at that, no radiation!" she proudly shows her arm device off to the sniper. He merely grunts in response at the old news. When he was stationed at Camp Golf they'd go swimming in the lake regularly, as long as someone kept a lookout for lakelurks. It was the only way to beat those hot Mojave days.

Before he realizes it, MacKenzie's slipped her jacket and boots off and is shimmying out of her leather pants. A blush burns across his cheeks as he tries to peel his eyes away but can't. Sure, he was married. And sure, in the army the units were co-ed and they dressed and undressed around each other all the time. But he's still a man and the sight of a woman disrobing in front of him, especially when he's been _so long _ without gets his blood pumping.

When her tank top hits the sand he realizes she just might have an unwanted audience across the water at the Camp. He doesn't get the chance to say anything before she's plowed headfirst into the water with a triumphant splash.

"Whoo!" she practically screams as she stands up, thigh-deep in the water. "Damn, it's cold!"

Boone rolls his eyes at that.

"You should come in, First Recon, it's refreshing!"

"No."

"I know you're sweaty... I can see it, ew."

"No."

"Come on!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Someone needs to stand watch."

MacKenzie blows a raspberry as she rolls her eyes and walks up on shore. Boone tries not to stare at her figure—her perfectly sized, perky breasts (a good handful each, but not too much to get in the way); her toned, defined waist; and her ample rear that sways gracefully with her hips.

MacKenzie chuckles knowingly as Boone clears his throat and looks away as she walks around him. "You'd better come in now before I make you."

He scoffs at that, as if the petite redhead could physically make _him,_ at six-foot-three do anything. Suddenly a blur of tightly packed muscle in the shape of a woman plows into him, knocking him across the sand and square into the water. MacKenzie is perched above him with a victorious smile painted across her face.

He lost his glasses and beret on shore and the gentle waves created by the wind lap across his chest as her hands rest heavily on his pectoral muscles. He would be mad, he _wants_ to be mad, but that look of pure joy on his companion's face just makes it melt away. He allows himself to smile a little and she begins to laugh. Her body vibrates with the giggles and it translates down to where she's straddled him, creating just a small amount of enjoyable friction.

He thanks the stars he's lying in cold water to keep him from getting too aroused.

Boone runs a hand across his bald head, a little self-conscious at having lost his hat. MacKenzie looks down at him, fingers splayed across his chest, and her eyes darken. His white shirt is thoroughly dampened by the lake water and clings to his skin, emphasizing every bit of corded muscle along his abdomen.

MacKenzie clears her throat and climbs off of him, skittering out into the water quickly with a nervous giggle. "See? I told you the water was nice."

He smiles at her again. "You're right. It is nice, Mac."

"Mac?"

He gives a one shouldered shrug as he trudges back to where he lost his sunglasses and beret. "Suits you."

She quirks another smile at him before ducking underneath the water. When she's come up, he's taken off his boots and cargo pants and waded out into the water (beret and all). She gives him a slightly puzzled look as she's surprised he even conceded to join her in the water.

"What? It's...hot," he explains simply. The cool water does wonders to calm his rushing blood.


	5. Not Good Enough

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Thanks to my reviewer and readers! So, so sorry for the long delay! I've hit a fairly bad case of writer's block lately. I hope it clears up soon.

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><p>"Well, shit, I don't have two thousand caps!" Mac says in frustration, slumped down on a curb in Freeside. "How the hell am I supposed to get into the Strip now?"<p>

"Like you said, Benny probably isn't going anywhere; he has no reason to. So just use the time to make the money you need to get in."

"What about you?"

"I already have a pass for the Strip from when I was with the NCR."

"No, I mean, what are you going to do...while I'm off making those two thousand caps?"

He stares at her dumbly for a bit before answering, "Same as I have been doing. That is, unless you don't want me following you anymore." His heart clenches up a bit at the thought of her leaving him. Despite his past year of solitude, he's grown accustomed to company. Even perhaps likes her a bit, _as a friend,_ he reminds himself.

MacKenzie, for her part, looks visibly relieved at his assurance that he'll stay with her. _I just need someone to watch my back, that's all_, she reminds herself. It's not that she's awfully lonely when travelling solo. It's not that she harbors some unwanted emotions towards her First Recon teammate, despite the fact that Boone's made it clear that he would prefer to not be physically (or emotionally) close to her. He always keeps his distance whenever he can. She can count on one hand the number of times she's actually touched him, with each time leading to him scowling and receding from her.

She lets out a sigh. _Maybe I should look for a companion who actually wants to be around me, one that isn't just using me to further his own goal. Or one that isn't looking for me to lead him to his death,_ she thinks with a sad realization. A glance over at Boone and his perpetual dour look confirms her thoughts. He's not with her to live...he's following her because he knows she's trouble and he's looking for his own end.

Mac breaks the silence by saying, "Well, any ideas of where I can go for jobs?"

Boone startles out of his mysterious and likely depressing thoughts to look over at her. "There's Camp McCarran just south of the city. They usually have some open bounties, if you're willing to risk your neck. Might be some work with other groups around the city too."

"Should check the Crimson Caravan; I have a friend to meet up with there anyway, he owes me a bit of money," she says with a bit of a smile on her face.

Boone feels a little spike of jealousy at the knowledge that she has a friend besides him. D_oes she even consider me a friend?_ He examines her through his dark lenses, noting that she seemed to perk up upon mentioning her caravaneer friend. The reasons why that run through his head do not sit well with him, and tries to tamp down on his inner jealously once again.

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><p>The Crimson Caravan Mojave headquarters is a lively place, filled with people coming, going, trading, and even doing a bit of farming. Boone jumps as Mac lets out a little squeal of joy as she runs up to Ringo, who is apparently her caravanneer friend. And they seem much closer than Boone first suspected.<p>

Ringo holds Mac close in a hug just a little too tight and a little too long to be considered "just friends," and then proceeds to keep their hands linked together for the majority of their conversation. Mac wastes no time in introducing her sniper partner (although Boone just grunts in acknowledgment), after which he excuses himself, feeling like a third wheel. Doesn't stop him from keeping a close eye on the pair though.

Sooner than he expected, Mac returns alone, her once bright mood damped after her conversation.

"You seem close." Boone has a knack for stating the obvious.

"Yeah."

"Known him long?"

MacKenzie quickly pulls away from her rapidly streaming thoughts to squint up at Boone. She clears her throat before speaking. "No, actually, just met him in Goodsprings when I first woke up. I kind of saved his life, I guess," she gives her normal one-shouldered shrug. And then she's lost to the river of her thoughts again.

After the fight with the Powder Gangers (and subsequent victory with no townspeople's lives lost), Trudy suggested Ringo stay another day to get a fresh start in the morning. "Get yourself a real bed in one of the empty houses," she said. He didn't say no to that offer.

MacKenzie found him that evening; brought him some dinner from Trudy. A gift for protecting the town, she said.

What started as post-dinner dish washing ended as a hurried kiss, her body pressed delightfully between his and the wet sink, water soaking in through the back of her shirt.

A kiss driven by gratitude and good-old-fashioned relief at being alive.

A kiss that was wholeheartedly returned as the amnesiac threw all hesitation out the window and allowed herself to enjoy things for one moment in time.

A moment that happened to last til the next morning.

A moment that she didn't soon forget, even after watching Ringo wave his goodbyes to the townsfolk and set off towards New Vegas again. He asked her to join him, but she said she needed to take care of other things first. They'd meet up again though, soon, she promised.

And here they are.

"What's wrong, Mac?" Boone asks, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Nothin'," she replies shortly. He shrugs at that, although she apparently can't contain herself and confesses, "He's leaving for New Canaan. The first friend I made... and he's leaving. He said I could sign on with the company, see if I could get a job out that way too. But I would be terrible as a caravanneer. Besides, I have unfinished business here, right?" she looks up at him wistfully.

"You could do it. Let go of the revenge."

"No," she says steadfastly. "I need closure. Running away from my problems will never give me closure. Running away never solved anything, for anyone."

Something in those words hints at more in her past. But something in those words also strikes close to home in Boone. Running, that's all he's been doing. That's all he's doing even now.

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><p>"I've never been good enough. I guess you could say that's why I left."<p>

"Huh?" Boone looks up from his gecko kebab he just roasted over a barrel fire in a burnt-out building just outside Freeside. "You write that down in your memory book too?"

MacKenzie looks over at him, almost startled that he was actually listening to her. She shakes her head slowly. "Each night I dream; I remember more. Don't know that I want to, now that I think about it."

"Know what you mean."

"Look at me, can't even die when I'm supposed to... My mother would say it's just my own insecurity talking, that you only as good as you think you are. Load of bull, if you ask me."

Boone keeps quiet, not entirely sure what Mac is on about, but willing to listen to her ramble about her past just the same.

"My dad—ah now, my dad, he was the supportive one. Of both Jo and me. Mom was jealous, I think. Jealous that our dad seemed to love us more than her. I don't know if that's true or not, I don't remember enough... I just remember emotions, really, from my dream-memories." She pauses with a small sniffle in the rapidly cooling Mojave night. "Poor Jo. She deserved a better life. She was the smart one, out of the two of us."

Boone opens his mouth to disagree, to stop her line of self-deprecation, but she doesn't give him the chance.

"It was her idea, really, to head east. She found the job as a caravanneer. I just tagged along, I guess. I don't really know. Somehow I ended up out here, got that job as a courier. Not good enough for anything else, I suppose."

"Don't say that."

"What?"

"Don't say you're not good enough. You're better than most people I know. You sure as hell are better than me, although that's not saying much," he adds under his breath.

"Still can't do anything right. Boone, I've almost gotten myself killed a number of times in the past fortnight, all because I'm not good enough. Not a good enough courier, not a good enough shot, now I'm not even good enough to get onto the Strip!"

"Having money has nothing to do with being good enough."

"Not where I'm from. You'd think all of those ideas would have died when the bombs fell, but they didn't. Money is power, where I'm from, and you're shit-out-of-luck if you're poor. And me, I'm poor, boy oh boy am I poor. I couldn't even buy you armor, just had to scrounge something that doesn't even fit you off a dead Viper! I'm not even good enough to protect the one man in this world trying to protect me!"

"Enough!" Boone growls in frustration, standing up and stalking towards her. Her eyes open as big as saucers at his sudden show of emotion. "You, MacKenzie, are a good person. I've only known you a week and I know that. I don't give a shit what other people think. Life has fucked you over, hell it's fucked us _all_ over. But you had better damn well keep fighting. If not for yourself, then for Jo."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks, taken off guard.

"Who do you fight for?" When met with an uncomfortable silence she continues, "Maybe that's your problem, Boone. You don't fight for anyone."

"Who do I have left?" he mutters darkly.

She holds his gaze a bit longer before giving a one-shouldered shrug. "I guess you need to find somebody, if not yourself."


	6. The Plants Kill, but so do Shotguns

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, followers, and favoriters! Sorry for the wait on this chapter...time got away from me!**  
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><p>"I have a bad feeling about this," the sniper growls as they approach the jungle-like entrance to Vault 22.<p>

"Well, that pansy doctor is paying me to do this, and I need the money. You don't have to follow if you don't want," MacKenzie replies.

"No way in Hell am I letting you go in there by yourself."

"Aww, my knight in... shitty dull metal armor," she quips, earning an amused grunt in response.

"Watch out!" he chides, pushing her off to the side to cleave through a mantis with his machete. "Told you, I have a bad feeling about this."

"What, is the big bad sniper afraid of a few little bugs?"

"I hate bugs."

"Then I'll lead."

"Because that always goes well," he grumbles, earning himself a glare from the redhead.

Mac pushes her way through the dense growth keeping the large circular door slightly ajar. It looks like the thick vines had been hacked away at to clear a path some time ago, but the plants grow so voraciously that the path is now nearly gone. Boone instead brute forces his way through, hacking anew at the vines with his machete.

They finally make it past the entrance room when Mac abruptly stops.

"What? What is it?" her companion asks, eyes darting about the room searching for some unseen danger.

"I've just never seen...so much green..." she says almost mystified.

Boone snorts at that. "Bet you haven't seen snow then, either?"

She glances over at him. "Not that I can remember, anyway."

"Then we should go up Mt. Charleston toward the old ski lodge. Although rumor has it that it's currently inhabited by super mutants, so maybe we shouldn't."

"I'd like to see snow. Trees too?"

"Yeah, real trees."

"It's a date." She flashes a goofy grin at Boone which he can't help but start to return, when she suddenly jumps and fires her shotgun near his feet.

"Watch it! You shoot me, I shoot back!" he growls, reaching to grab the weapon out of her hands.

"I felt something move past my leg!"

"I thought you weren't afraid of a few little bugs," he taunts.

"Shut up. Oh, an elevator!" her attention is quickly riveted to the end of the hall that she then bounds down. Boone follows slowly, firmly holding her shotgun at his side. "Shit, it's broken, guess it's the stairs for us, unless you know how to repair things?" she gives a hopeful smile at her sniper.

Boone stares back blankly. "Unless it's a gun, then no."

"Shit. I hate stairs."

"If I give you your shotgun back, you promise not to shoot me?"

"I promise to...try. To not shoot you, I mean. It's hard to tell with the shotgun."

"Yeah, that's why I suggested it. With your aim, you can still hit your target. Not that this allows you to stop practicing with a rifle. You still need to learn to aim."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me the gun," she rolls her eyes like a child and reaches for the shotgun.

"I'll spot you."

"You just want to look at my ass."

"I don't want to get shot by your wild aiming."

Mac harumphs and sets off towards the stairs, pushing the control to open the fire door.

* * *

><p>The next floor isn't as lush as the first one, but many of the hallways are still overgrown with plants, and most of the smaller rooms are so thick with vegetation they can't even get in the door. MacKenzie does squirm in to pick some red tubular flowers though, placing one behind her ear and tucking the others in a pocket in her armor.<p>

"What, they're pretty!" she defends when sighting Boone's strange look. He merely shakes his head.

Down the hallway, Mac plods along with her shotgun holstered on her back, trusting her sniper to take out any rogue mantises they come across. They enter a large room when suddenly she stops and grabs Boone's arm. "Did you see that? It looked... well, it was big, that's for sure."

Boone gives a quick sniper's glance around the room. "I don't see anything."

She huffs at him before pulling her shotgun off her back. "Alright, maybe I'm crazy."

"Mac, you're definitely crazy."

The cross to the other side of the room before Mac jumps back again, pushing herself into Boone's chest. He places his hands on her shoulders to stabilize her before quickly releasing and taking an awkward step back. Having her so close makes his blood start to stir again.

"Shit, did you feel that?" she exclaims.

A faint blush runs up Boone's neck before he clears his throat. "No, feel what?"

Mac's eyes dart rapidly around the room as she searches for the culprit. "That... thing, I think I saw it again! It brushed right past my leg! It was...green, I think."

"Everything is green in here," he replies flatly.

"Which is probably why you can't see it," she explains slowly, with an edge to her voice.

Boone glares at her shortly before quickly turning and lining up a shot, aiming at something moving in the bushes across the room. Suddenly a green creature on all fours comes bounding towards them, before crumpling to the ground as a loud shot rings out from Boone's rifle.

"Huh, guess you weren't imagining it after all."

MacKenzie glares at the sniper as she slowly approaches the fallen creature. She nudges it with her boot before kneeling next to it. "It looks almost... human. Was this some sort of vault experiment?" She reaches out to touch it but her wrist is quickly grabbed by Boone.

"Don't touch it, I don't like the look of that powder covering it."

Mac slowly stands up and back away, letting her arm drop to her side. "Yeah, yeah you're right. We should probably be wearing haz-mat suits, but I haven't seen any. Shit, I'm gonna die by turning into a weird green thing."

* * *

><p>An hour or so later, they finally find Keely in the caves, who tells them to meet her in her lab on Level 2. The only good things that come of it are that the elevators are now unlocked, and Mac scored a bag filled with several grenades.<p>

The bad thing is Keely asked them to set off an explosion and somehow not kill themselves in the process.

"Fuck Boone, they didn't warn me that she's insane! She wants me to kill myself just to stop these-these... spores! Fuck that!" Mac bolts for the elevator and beelines it for the vault exit, only to find the door out bolted shut with no way to unlock it. "Fuck! That fucking bitch locked us in!"

"Mac, calm down."

"No, you fucking calm down! I will not be kept in here like some-some...lab rat for her to send to my death! No fucking way!"

"Mac! Damn, woman. If we just do what she wants, she'll let us out. It can't be that hard."

"Yeah, you haven't been on death's bed before."

"Don't go there, you don't know what I've been through," the sniper growls darkly.

"Fine, let's go set ourselves on fire," MacKenzie growls back.

They locate the vents quickly, and discover that the mainframe room is close enough and has a working door so as to serve as shelter from the firestorm. Boone quickly begins removing plates of his spiked metal armor.

"What are you taking off your armor for?" MacKenzie questions.

"If there's going to be fire, I'd rather not be in a tin can that'll cook my skin. And in the tin can I won't be able to run away quickly enough."

"Run away?"

"From the fire."

"Right. Good point."

In the end, it turns out to not be that difficult to set the explosion off. Apparently exploding grenades in the vicinity of explosive gas are a great combination. Although, with Mac's aim it takes a couple of tries to get the grenade close to the vents.

She doesn't expect the resultant fireball to move so damn fast, instead watching the fire start in numb shock. But seconds after tossing the successful grenade, she finds herself on her back, pinned to the concrete by a large, bald sniper.

"Hey," she says quietly, a bit shell-shocked by what just happened. She slowly releases her tight grip on Boone's sleeve and runs her hand down his arm.

Boone blushes, coughs, and makes haste to get off her small frame. "You weren't moving; I had to shut the door. I didn't want to catch on fire."

"You could have left me in the hallway, would have been faster."

"I'm not letting you die, Mac."

MacKenzie slowly collects herself from the floor and brushes her pants off, avoiding the sniper's eyes. "Thanks, Boone. Now let's go talk to the bitch and get the fuck out of here."


	7. Vegas, Baby

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Thanks again to my reviewers, favoriters, followers, and lurkers! Also, in this chapter I say Benny's suite is "palatial," although it's not really that big in the game. I always figured the boss of the Tops would have a much swankier place than that...**  
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><p>The 1200 caps from Dr. Hildern for that damned awful trip to Vault 22 got Mac just enough to get into the strip. She's about to troop straight into the Lucky 38, put her shotgun to Benny's chest and make him beg for his life, when Victor stops her. Damn that robot. Several hours and one meeting with a talking computer screen later, she's back to plotting her revenge.<p>

MacKenzie stands in front of the full-length mirror in her suite at the Lucky 38, smoothing her hands down the front of her little black dress, emphasis on the _little_. If Boone's reaction is any indication, she should have no problem getting Benny alone. A short while ago, she was up on her tip-toes, pushing herself over the sink towards the mirror to put on mascara. In the reflection she saw Boone walk by once, pause, continue, then walk by again, eyes trailing down the length of her body, jaw fallen open and his sunglasses on the floor in surprise.

_Oh yeah,_ she thinks, _this'll do the trick. Benny could only ignore this if he's gay._ And she's pretty sure he's not, by the way she remembers him staring down the front of her shirt for a bit-too-long as he held the gun to her head.

Yeah. Of all the things to remember, she remembers _that_.

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><p>Mac perches herself on a seat a short distance from where Benny and his goons stand at the back of the casino floor in the Tops. Crossing one long leg over the other and swaying it gently, she slides up the hem of her skirt to pull a cigarette out of a slim case tucked into the top of her thigh-high stockings and slides Benny's lighter out from its hiding spot in her cleavage. She casually lights up the cigarette, keeping the shiny engraved lighter in clear view of Benny.<p>

She doesn't even have the time to get the cigarette to her lips when an infamous checkered coat comes into her peripheral vision.

"Hey doll, where'd you get that lighter from?" he rumbles in her ear, fingers tracing up her wrist towards the lighter. She quickly snatches it away and slides it back into her cleavage, his eyes following the whole way. Mac puts out the cigarette in a convenient ashtray and slowly swivels on her stool to face the man.

A feline smile graces her features as she takes in the slow revelation crossing his visage. "Hey, Benny," her voice drips with sweetness.

Boone sits nearby, knuckles white around a beer. Bits and pieces of Mac and Benny's conversation drift to his ears and he holds back a grimace at every word.

"I'm a courier, remember? Don't you want me to _handle your package_?" MacKenzie purrs.

Boone glances up, jaw clenched tight, to see the young woman pushing her chest (barely covered by that dress) towards Benny, sliding one stilletoed-foot up the inside of his leg. He barely hears Benny squeak out his room number before sliding a key into her cleavage. Boone squeezes his eyes shut tight, and by the time he's opened them, Benny has gone and Mac is quickly downing the rest of her cocktail, seemingly whispering to herself.

He looks down at his warming beer. He should stop her, he knows. She's got the key, they could do this together. He shouldn't leave her alone with the man that tried to murder her. He shouldn't let her throw herself at him. He shouldn't... He looks up again and she's gone.

A few long moments pass, hell, it could have been hours for all he knew, before Boone bolts out of his chair and quickly strides towards the elevators. The annoying elevator music grates on his nerves as he impatiently waits out the ride to the thirteenth floor. Practically clawing his way out of the still-opening doors, his stalks down the hallway, looking for any sign of the little redhead or the man in the checkered suit.

Boone passes two chairmen who were staring in shock at the door to a particular suite. "Did you see that sweet piece of ass Benny just took into his room? I know he usually has good taste, but _damn_ what I'd do to slip that doll a little bit o'..." one says to the other.

Boone shuts his eyes briefly and tries to block out what he's hearing. A moment later they've passed into the open elevator and are out of earshot. And now he's got his destination: an overly grandiose door that leads to a palatial suite.

He pushes the door open silently (idiot chairman forgot to lock it) to find Mac pressed between Benny and the wall, one of his hands high under her hitched-up skirt and the other firmly groping a breast. His shirt is open to the waist, his lips are adhered to her neck, and _fuck_ she looks like she's almost enjoying it by the way her eyes are closed and the low humming sound she's making. Two half-drank glasses of whisky sit abandoned on a table covered with Benny's jacket, Mac's shoes carelessly kicked off next to one of the legs.

A loud gasp comes from MacKenzie and Boone's eyes dart over to see one of Mac's legs firmly wrapped around Benny's hips, toes curled, and one of Benny's hands busy between those long appendages of hers. Boone sees red.

The sniper creeps up behind the preoccupied man (who knew the six-foot-something man could be so quiet, that or Benny is completely oblivious) and grits his teeth in preparation for what he's about to do. He deftly takes the fink's head in his hands and gives a hard twist with a loud pop. The half-dressed body falls to the floor with a heavy _thunk_ and MacKenzie falls over with him.

She gazes up at the furious sniper towering over her and Benny's body. "You son-of-a-bitch! I had a plan, you know!"

"You shouldn't have let him touch you," he replies simply.

"I didn't have a choice!" she scrambles to her feet and quickly pulls the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders.

"You had a choice whether or not to come up here with him."

"It was the only way to get him alone."

"We could have done this together. You shouldn't have come up here alone with him, and you definitely shouldn't have let him touch you. That man tried to _kill_ you before. Who's to say he wouldn't finish the job this time?"

"You think I don't know that? After all I'm the one with the scars to prove it! I wake up everyday with the memory of his gun fresh in my mind. I came here for revenge, Boone, and nothing was going to stop me."

"Even if you had to sleep with him first."

"Well at least I would have gotten laid; lord knows it's been long enough since that happened."

"You really so desperate you would fuck this asshole?"

"Well who else have I got to fuck? _You?_" The words slip out just before her brain filter kicks in. Her mouth snaps shut and she swallows heavily. Boone's stoic mask slips for just a second before he replaces it with his angry face.

"Just get what you need and let's get out of here before his security comes sniffing around," he growls dangerously before stalking to the opposite side of the room, leaving Mac to fix her stockings. She lets out a deep breath before kneeling before Benny's body to look for the chip, snagging Maria along the way. She tucks the pistol into the top of her stockings and grabs her shoes before hurrying out the door.

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><p>"You're a selfish, jealous son-of-a-bitch, you know that?" she yells at him in the lobby of the Lucky 38, after walking back in angry silence.<p>

"Excuse me?" he wheels on her.

She angrily charges towards him. "You heard me. You're fucking selfish for stealing _my kill_. It was _my revenge_ and you just took that from me! And! And!" she screeches, "you did it because you're fucking jealous!"

"Jealous? Jealous of what? Him using you like a whore? You want me to treat you like a whore too? Do you?" he growls dangerously, edging her into the elevator, pressing her against the wall. "You like it when a filthy man puts his filthy paws on you like that? Is that it?" He grabs her thigh firmly, pulling it up to his hip, before sliding his hand up her body, across the black silk of the dress, stopping just below her breast. "Is this what you want?" he asks lowly, darkly, anger seeping out of his eyes and across his face. "You like being used like this?"

She pants heavily and looks at him with wide eyes before swallowing heavily. "Tell me you don't mean that," she whispers. "Tell me you don't mean the way you're touching me, that you really think I'm just a whore."

The elevator bell dings as the doors open to the Presidential Suite. Boone growls in frustration and quickly backs up out of the enclosed space. He beelines for the bathroom to take a cold shower, leaving MacKenzie a small shapeless lump on the floor of a small elevator in a large building.

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><p>Boone flinches awake the next morning from a nightmare about Bitter Springs, tossing his feet over the side of the bed and staring at the floor while he reorients himself. With a deep sigh he scrubs a hand across his bare head, grabs his beret from the headboard, and marches towards the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Shitty, 200-year-old coffee whose vacuum seal probably did nothing to keep the freshness, but coffee just the same.<p>

He pauses as he passes Mac's open door. Her room is clean and empty. Spotlessly clean. And _empty_.

Victor, ever-present, watches Boone as he paces back and forth in front of the elevator.

"Where is she?" Boone asks in a sleep-laden gravelly voice.

"Well, I don't rightly know, pardner. She left early this morn'; looked like she was going on a long trip by how big her pack was."

"Shit."

Boone charges into her room to search for clues and quickly finds a small note on the desk with a metal tin that rattles.

_'Your share'_ is all she wrote. The tin is full of caps, probably about four hundred by the weight of it.

"_Shit,_" he says again, louder this time, his throat scratching with the effort.

She left him.


	8. A Scribe and a Whisky Rose

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Thanks always to my readers, reviewers, alerters, and favoriters! I get so excited when I get the email alerts from FF.n!**  
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><p>MacKenzie's only been gone two days and Boone's already taken to sleeping in her bed, if only to breathe in her lingering scent and imagine she were still there.<p>

It's only creepy when he thinks about it. Which he tends not to, instead drowning it out with whisky.

Yes, his solution to everything: whisky. Scotch, to be more exact. In public he'll have a beer, yeah, but he's really craving the slow smoky burn of the distilled spirit down his throat. Which is exactly what he's got right now, cradled in his hand, overlooking all of New Vegas from the wrap-around cocktail lounge in the Lucky 38.

He likes to be alone, right? Always been more comfortable this way. It was different with Carla; she made him feel…_alive_. Since her death…well, he might as well have died himself. Just going through the motions of living since then. Til…well, til _her_, now that he thinks about it. Maybe, yeah, maybe he's felt the stirrings of _life_, the spark of a slow-burning fire just coming back, deep inside him. Because of her.

Maybe he doesn't like to be alone anymore.

He stares down at his half-empty glass, the amber liquid gently warmed by his hand. He hasn't fully given up yet, he realizes; he's drinking it out of a glass. When it's really bad, he just goes straight for the bottle. Keeps going till he can see the bottom, then finds another. Doesn't usually remember much past the first half, though. Wakes up with a headache that almost matches the pain in his heart.

Not today though. Today...well, today he has a reason to stop.

He puts the glass down. He needs to find her. He doesn't know where to start, but she's out there somewhere. Alone.

And maybe, just maybe, she needs him as much as he needs her.

He needs to find her.

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><p>MacKenzie decides she needs a companion who <em>doesn't<em> want to die. It's sort of hard for someone to watch your back when they are just looking for death.

When she thinks about it, she's honestly surprised Boone _isn't_ dead yet from following her. _Lord knows I get into enough trouble. Almost died multiple times myself, but he was always there. Always watching._

She shakes her head at the thought. There are other people, others she can call... friends. Friends, really? Are she and Boone friends? They had an amicable enough working relationship, and sure she babbled his ear off from time to time, but does she really know him? _Did he ever _let_ me _get_ to know him?_ She shakes her head again. _No, not really. I suppose you don't have time for friends when you just want to die._

She shields her eyes as she climbs the large still-standing overpass topped by 188 Trading Post, a small safe zone swarming with NCR soldiers and traders. She weaves her way through the folks milling around to find a seat on a picnic bench sheltered by the shell of a bus, plunking herself down next to a person wearing a robe and hood that look to be made from a potato sack.

The potato sack has a voice.

"Hi, I'm Veronica and I live in a hole in the ground," the potato sack says, holding out her hand, smile across the shadow of her face.

"Hi, I'm MacKenzie, and I'm trouble," the redhead returns with an equally large smile.

Michelle comes up and asks what Mac would like to eat for lunch, bringing Veronica a refill on her water. Two hours later, MacKenzie sets out on the road again, Veronica in tow, headed for the California border.

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><p>Veronica, MacKenzie quickly discovers, talks even more than she herself does. That's saying something. Every once in a while though, she finds herself turning with a half-grin on her face looking for her ever-present stoic sniper, only to find the space ten feet behind her empty. And every time her heart sinks a little more. <em>It's better this way, for both of us<em>, she tells herself.

After two days of walking (with a layover in Novac), the two women finally reach the Mojave Outpost. After entering the barracks, Mac quickly spots her target: a woman in her late 30s, perched on a barstool, straw woven cowboy hat dipped low over her eyes, with glass of warming whisky cradled lovingly in one hand. Easy target to spot, given that she's the only non-NCR person in the room besides the two newcomers.

"Hi, you must be..." MacKenzie starts.

"I only talk to new folks if they buy me a drink first," Rose of Sharon Cassidy grumbles quietly.

"Well...okay. Bartender? Another...whisky?"

"That's no way to order a drink." Cass tosses back the rest of her glass and slams the empty back onto the bar. "Another!" she calls out loudly. "_That's_ how you order a drink," she leans towards Mac, tipping her hat up just far enough to see her face.

"Certainly has style," Mac replies.

"Damn straight! Now what was it you wanted?"

"I'm here on behalf of Crimson Caravans..." Mac begins.

"Oh, now I'm _really _going to need another drink."

"Alice McLafferty wants to offer you..."

"Look, I make it a policy not to discuss business when sober. Drink with me for a bit, _then_ we'll talk. You too, mouse," she gestures at Veronica.

"Mouse?" the scribe replies indignantly.

"You heard me. Now set your ass down on that stool and order something. And none of that sissy Sarsaparilla either."

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><p>Veronica sits up quickly in bed, looking at the two other pairs of small feet sticking out from the bottom of the blanket covering the lumpy mattress. She lifts up the comforter and spies that yes, all three women are indeed wearing clothes, before falling back to the bed.<p>

"Well, crap, here I thought I might have gotten lucky with a threesome," she grouses.

"Shh, V, my head hurts," MacKenzie groans as she rolls over to nestle into the other woman's side.

"Damn, do you two always talk so much in the morning? I need at least a couple of drinks before I'm worth anything," Cass mumbles from underneath her pillow.

"Cass, you need a bigger bed if you plan on getting us this drunk every night. I couldn't even find the bunk I claimed earlier."

"S'better this way," comes the voice from under the pillow. "'Cept for the talking. If you're not gonna shut up, at least find me some booze."

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><p>Boone doesn't even know where to begin, so he leaves Vegas to the south, headed towards Novac. She has a room there, he knows, bought it from <em>that bitch<em> who sold his wife. He stops at 188 Trading Post on the way, leaning against the side of the dead truck belonging to the former NCR armor trader. Trades in his spiked-out metal set for a clean fitting, albeit slightly worn, set of combat armor. It has the added benefit of increased stealth: now the bad guys can't hear him coming from two miles away.

Parked on the picnic bench MacKenzie sat at just three days earlier, he glowers at his gecko kebab.

"Now just what did that kebab ever do to you?" Samuel, the post "owner," asks of the sniper.

Boone spares him a passing glare and a grunt.

"Woman trouble, then?"

"You could say that."

"Ah," Samuel takes a seat across from the bald man, "that's what it always is here. Some young man goes to New Vegas, finds a girl, thinks he's in love, and then it turns out she's a whore at Gomorrah."

This earns a quiet snicker from the First Recon man. "Not exactly. Went to Vegas with her, then she left me."

"What'd you do to piss her off?"

Boone groans. "I may or may not have been jealous over her lavishing attention on another man."

"Fair game if she cheated on you."

"We weren't exactly _together_."

"Ah. So now you're looking for her, want to win her back? Or just win her, in this case?"

Boone huffs a big sigh. "I need her. But I don't know where she's gone."

"Did she wear a cap like that?" Samuel shakes his hand towards Boone's beret. "But no NCR armor?"

"Yes, she did. Have you seen her?" he asks, trying to hide the hope in his voice.

"Hm, yeah, she came through here. Left with another woman, looked a bit older than her, who had been hanging around here for the last few days. I think she said they were headed to California."

Boone quickly stands. "Much obliged." He swings his leg over the bench seat and snags the kebab, quickly tearing off a piece with his teeth before throwing his pack over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>MacKenzie stands at the junction of Highways 164 and 95, staring west towards Lake Mojave. Cass pulls up next to her (cradling a bottle of whisky, as usual) while Veronica appears fascinated by a nearby cactus.<p>

"What is it? That where loverboy is?" Cass asks after a long pull from her bottle.

"He's not my... ugh," Mac sighs loudly, "no, I seriously hope not. Down there is a Legion camp."

"What are we doing staring towards it then?"

"You're right," she replies firmly, before her feet start moving westward.

"No, wait, where are you going? I didn't mean to go that way!" Cass says with dismay. Noticing MacKenzie has no intention of stopping, she calls, "Veronica! The crazy redhead is looking to crucify herself!"

That catches the mousey woman's attention. "Wait, wait! MacKenzie!" she runs after her, skidding to a halt in front of the determined young woman. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I have a date with Caesar."

"No, I don't think you do. You do know what they do to women over there, right?"

Mac's eyes meet Veronica's. "Yes, I am well aware. I was invited. And I plan on using that invitation to kill him."

"You can't be serious..." Cass murmurs. "You'll just get yourself killed! You think they'll just let you walk up, take a pot shot, and walk away?"

"Well, no, but I..."

"No buts. No matter what that man has done, it's not worth you throwing away your life. Christ, MacKenzie, you gotta have a plan before you do something like that," continues the caravaneer.

"Yeah, MacKenzie, let's just...head back to Vegas and we'll sit down and figure something out. I don't know, find you some Stealth Boys or something," Veronica says.

A smile graces across Mac's face. "Yeah, yeah, Stealth Boys could work. And a silenced gun. That just might work. Do you know where I can find some?"

"I've never heard of anyone selling them; we'll just have to keep our eyes open."

"Back to adventuring then, I suppose."


	9. Comings and Goings

**Disclaimer: Bethesda owns all, I just take them out to play.**

A/N: Sorry for the super-super long delay! My life has been rather chaotic the past few months... getting married, getting laid-off, getting a new job... Here's to hoping I start updating regularly now?

Also, I feel like I'm having a time-fail in this chapter, but I'm just not really sure what to have Boone do by himself, so consequently it seems like he travels way slower than the girls do. Let's just pretend he's a slow walker.

* * *

><p>Boone exhales slowly as he spies Dinky from a distance. In the mid-day light he thinks he can see the sparkle of the sun off a sniper rifle barrel protruding from the mouth, but then again it could just be his imagination. He doesn't relish the idea of speaking to his former best friend again, but he has to admit that Manny is the best source of information in the town. Now that <em>the bitch<em> is dead, anyway.

He pushes open the door to the gift shop, catching his breath when he is suddenly assaulted by the smell of dust that seems to be ever-present in the small room.

Cliff looks up from wiping down the counter with a dirty rag, a blank look quickly replaced by a friendly smile. "Hey, Boone! My favorite night-sniper. Missed seeing you around here, buddy. Where ya been?"

Boone grinds his teeth briefly before settling on a short reply, "Wandering. Manny up there?"

"Yeah, yeah, Manny's on his shift like usual. Say, you coming back to town now? We've been without a second watch since you up and vanished."

"I got business to take care of, sorry."

"Oh, oh, I understand..." Cliff trails off as Boone mounts the final steps to the dinosaur mouth.

* * *

><p>MacKenzie holds her breath as the elevator doors to the Presidential Suite slowly open. The dead silence is quickly broken by a squeal of joy from Veronica.<p>

"I haven't seen a real bathtub in months!"

"Yeah, yeah, hot and cold too," Mac murmurs, trying to push her disappointment down. _Guess he decided he was tired of me, after all. I shouldn't be surprised, I'm a bit tired of me too._

"Hey, where's lover-boy?" Cass wanders back from the kitchen, having already found a bottle of whisky.

Mac huffs a breath as she rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "Hell if I know."

"You sound disappointed."

"Bull-shit. Why would I need a broody bald-head like him around anyway when I've got you two?"

"It's okay to miss him, MacKenzie; it's only natural," Veronica chimes in, her voice bouncing off the tiled floor of the bathroom.

"I _don't_ miss him."

"Mm-hmm," Cass affirms sarcastically around a mouthful of burning amber liquid.

"Ugh, forget it. I'm being pathetic. Maybe I do miss him. I don't know."

"Where's the soap?" Veronica calls out.

"Ugh, fuck, V, you're interrupting my whining."

"Thank God," Cass mutters.

"Seriously, where is the soap?"

"Fresh packages in the cabinet, knock yourself out," Mac hollers.

"Thanks!" comes the bright reply, followed by the sound of the tub filling.

"Cass, you want to go to Freeside with me?" Mac questions.

"But I just got a fresh bottle."

"You can bring it with, I don't expect any action. Besides the petty criminals, anyway."

"Eh, I can take them down with one hand."

"V! We're going out! Be back later!" Mac calls.

"'Kay!" Veronica replies around the sound of splashing.

"Don't drown!" Cass yells from the elevator.

* * *

><p>"Want my opinion? I'd have kicked him in the balls," Cass says bluntly.<p>

"Uh, what? I think I missed the beginning of the conversation," Mac replies.

"Your sniper, for pulling a stunt like that in the elevator."

"I don't think that would have gone over very well."

"Sure it would have. He sounds too noble to ever hurt a woman. Swift kick to the nuts and then I'd stride out of the elevator with my head held high. He would have been helpless."

"I try not to go around harming my companions, no matter how much they deserve it."

"Well, I'm giving you fair warning. If he pulls anything with me, bam!" Cass' leg pops out in an air-kick, a brutal looking one at that. She's probably had practice. "Oh shit, I almost spilled my whisky."

MacKenzie gives a laugh. "Well you just kicked the shit out of the imaginary man."

"Damn straight!" Cass grins before taking a swig. "Where are we headed?"

"I heard something about the Followers needing help, thought I'd check it out. Don't feel much like going to the Fort yet. Mr. House has seriously got some screws loose."

"I don't know why you're following his orders anyway. The man doesn't even have the balls to meet you face-to-face."

"He did pay me well for getting the chip back."

"There's that."

"And set me up with that sweet suite. He said, too, that we can use more rooms of the hotel if we need more beds."

"Geez, MacKenzie, just how many people do you plan on collecting?"

MacKenzie shrugs. "It just seems like an awful waste of space, that big empty hotel."

"It's not empty; it's full of robots."

Mac snorts. "Yeah. I don't think they count for much."

"One seems to have taken a shine to you."

"Victor? Yeah, I guess you could say that. Still a big creepy though."

"Most men are."

Mac barks out a laugh as they stop in front of the large gate leading to the Old Mormon Fort. "Alright, here we are. Do you suppose we just walk in, or is there a secret knock or something?"

* * *

><p>The day sniper doesn't even turn when the door to the crow's nest in Dinky opens. "Isn't it a bit early for lunch, Cliff?"<p>

Boone clears his throat a bit awkwardly, just loud enough that Manny turns around.

"Boone! Uh, hey, man. You, uh, you need something?"

"Seen MacKenzie lately?"

"Who?"

"The courier. The little redhead who can't aim a gun."

"Oh, yeah. I thought you left town together?"

Boone merely grunts.

"Well, uh," Manny rubs the back of his neck nervously, "yeah, she came through here just a few days ago. With another woman. She said she was on a job, just crashing here for the night. Thought I saw her again a couple days ago with two women that time—the one from before and another red-head, just saw them passing by on the road, said they were heading back to Vegas. If you didn't see them on your way south they must have taken a different route up."

"Thanks," he replies brusquely as he turns to leave.

"Hey, Boone? I'm sorry man, I really am. About, well, about everything. I hope you've gotten some closure."

Boone holds his gaze a moment later, unsure of what to say. Eventually he settles on a slow nod before turning to exit Dinky's mouth.

Boone stops when he gets out of town, letting himself breathe and think for a moment. At least Mac's not travelling alone, she has someone to keep her safe; two people, from the sounds of it. That gives him some measure of relief. That one of those two people is not him doesn't make him feel particularly better though.

He reflects back to the last time he saw her, which was, coincidentally, the last time he _felt_ her, pressed up against him, chest heaving, visage displaying a mix of anger and lust, _must like my own must have been. I was an idiot, I know that, let my jealously get the best of me. And jealous of what? A ploy of hers to exact revenge on her would-be murderer?_

_What would she think of me if she were to find out I am a murderer?_ His chest tightens at the thought. _I may not ever find out; she may not even forgive me for that last night._ He huffs out a heavy breath, looking up at the bright cloudless sky through his dark sunglasses. _Best head back to the Strip, get this over with. If she doesn't forgive me then, well, I'll_...For once, he found himself at a loss as to what he actually _would_ do if left to his own devices. For once, he doesn't feel like finding the nearest cliff and plunging himself off of it. He hopes she forgives him, else he'll have to figure out another way to make amends with his life.

Tired of introspection, he looks down the road and steadfastly puts one foot in front of the other, pointing his way toward Vegas.

* * *

><p>Julie Farkas sends MacKenzie and Cass on mission to locate a drug dealer and help local addicts. It takes a couple of hours to speak to the two addicts and handle the dealer, but they soon return to the Old Mormon Fort and deliver the good news to Julie. She thanks them and directs the ladies to speak with another doctor named Arcade should they need anything.<p>

MacKenzie, ever curious, decides to seek out this other doctor right away. Arcade turns out to be a knowledgeable kind man with the prettiest eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. On a collecting spree, she asks him to join her motley crew, and after some small hesitation, the doctor agrees. MacKenzie sweetens the deal by offering to help him with his research in any way possible.

Cass stifles a laugh as she catches Mac checking out his ass as they leave the Follower's Fort. Poor thing is in for a surprise later.

The three of them return to the Lucky 38 to find Veronica watching some old movie on holotape.

"You know, it'd be nice if this place came with a projector instead; this television is so small I almost need glasses!" Veronica calls out as she hears the elevator open.

"Glad you're making yourself at home, V," Mac replies. "Arcade, want something to drink? We've got uh," the sounds of bottles clinking around in the refrigerator echoes to the common room, "Nuka-Cola; Sarsparilla; water, of course—it flows out of the tap here!—and some prickly pear juice; which is better than I had expected, anyway. Oh, and booze, if Cass hasn't drank all of it yet."

"Hey!" Cass hollers indignantly from the other room. "I promise to always replenish the stock," she nods at Arcade with her hand over her heart and a wink.

Arcade in turn clears his throat. "Just some water would be lovely, thank you."

"You sure I can't interest you in a Nuka and whisky? It's quite good," Mac's head pops into the doorway.

Arcade smiles shyly. "Water is fine."

"If you insist!" Mac hops into the room with a brighter smile than the girls have seen in the past few days carrying a bottle of water and a Nuka for herself. She promptly squishes herself between Veronica and Arcade, giving him a shy smile as he graciously scoots over. Cass holds back a guffaw from the comfy chair she's lounging in, her legs thrown over the padded arm.

"So, uh, is this how it normally is? The three of you ladies?" Arcade questions, taking a small sip of his water, giving the bottle an appreciative look.

"Well, that's a more recent development..." MacKenzie begins.

"You see, she used to travel with lover-boy, her First Recon man," Cass intercedes.

"But then they had a tiff, and Mac stormed off. That's where we come in," Veronica finishes.

"He's not my—" MacKenzie starts indignantly.

"Wait, you travel with NCR?" Arcade looks up sharply.

"And Brotherhood, but you didn't hear that from me," Veronica waves her hand in the air with a faint smile at the shy man.

"I see. And now you have a Follower. What's next, Legion?"

"Don't tempt her," Cass mutters from her chair.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mac responds seriously. "I only run with the good guys; like a Follower!" she continues brightly, beaming a large smile at the doctor.

He smiles a bit nervously. "Well, that's good to know, anyhow. So this First Recon man, he have a name?"

"Boone," all three women chime simultaneously with varying levels of emotion.

"And he apparently left? After you 'stormed off', I take it?"

MacKenzie groans and drops her head back to the couch. "He probably hates me now."

"He was a dick to you, honey," Veronica placates.

"I know. I'm still pissed. Ugh, men are dicks. Er, no offense, Doctor Gannon! Not you, I'm sure," MacKenzie adds, flashing him a winning smile.

"My name's Arcade, just Arcade; you really don't need to call me Doctor."

"But...what if I _need_ a doctor?" MacKenzie asks a bit suggestively.

Cass groans.

"What?" MacKenzie asks, straightening up to look at her friend.

"Nothin', nothin'," Cass mutters. "Just go right ahead, you'll figure it out eventually," she continues under her breath.

* * *

><p>The bright lights of the Strip flash in front of Boone's eye, reflected off his dark shades. He flashes his passport to the robots guarding the gate, pushing his way through. He heaves a big sigh, staring up the lit steps leading to the Lucky 38. "Here goes nothing," he mutters under his breath, placing one foot in front of the other to slowly make his way towards the front doors.<p> 


End file.
